Splatters
by cdbvsw
Summary: Danny was captured by the Guys in White. How will he survive? He doesn't.
1. Chapter 1

The blood wouldn't stop. No matter how hard Danny pressed against the wound on his shoulder, the blood wouldn't stop. Blood lines were now trailing down his arm, onto his leg, and staining his clothes forever. It dripped down onto the cold, hard concrete, making small pitier-patter noises as it hit the ground. Danny didn't know what happened today, and he didn't know why he was running. He didn't know how long he had been in that alley after his battle with Valerie, but it was the last event he could remember fully.

The events after that were a blur of red and green, with a evil glint appearing every second. Danny felt like he was looking through a fishbowl. His head hurt just thinking about it. An ectoblast here, and blood drop here, and a jewel. After Valerie, he could only remember a jewel.

The jewel was a fiery-red opal, cut so there would be a perfect hole in the center. It was too small to be a bracelet, but not small enough to be a ring. He could remember holding it in his hands, and Danny knew that if he could just find that jewel, he would remember.

But he didn't know if he wanted to.

The morning sun rose slowly over the dingy gray skyscrapers of this city. Danny didn't recognize any of his surroundings, which made him freak out ever more. He was also having a problem with his shoulder wound. Even in human form, he should of healed already. The blood was slowly staining his whole shirt a bright crimson red. Danny had bled so much that his blood was now starting to have freckles of green appear. Danny thought that he must look like the zombie in the movie he was watching yesterday with Sam and Tucker. At least, he _thought_ it was yesterday. It could have been days or even weeks ago. His parents must be worried out if their heads, all for the wrong reasons.

Danny hid in an alley between to red-brick buildings. Purple graffiti littered the walls and the whole area was a mess. Danny waited, then as a shifty-looking teenager walked near the building, he pounced. Danny grabbed the teen, put one arm on the teen's chest, the other one under his legs. With a jerking movement, he moved his one arm down, the other one up. This made the teen flip over. Danny then caught him, then let his head slam down onto the pavement. This all happened in less than five seconds.

"Sorry," Danny whispered to the teen. He didn't like stealing, but sometimes you had no choice in the matter.

Danny quickly stripped the teen of his clothes. He then took of his own shirt and tried to fashion a bandage out of this. He got halfway through when his shoulder throbbed in pain and made him drop it. Danny hissed in pain and tried again. The wound was terrible to look at. Spanning from the top of his chest to the top of his shoulder blade, the wound was an ugly combination of black and red. The jagged opening of the wound looked like it was carved from something uneven, a rock, perhaps? Skulker's new weapon? Danny wasn't sure. He really didn't need to know.

Pus, ectoplasm, and blood was still leaking out of the open wound. Danny swore, then froze his shirt with his ice powers and tried again. It didn't work.

After what seemed like hours, but was actually only 20 minutes, Danny finally got the dang bandage to stay. He had already put on the guy's pants and shoes. They were about three sizes too big, (Danny had a slender body, unlike his dad) but Danny didn't really care for the moment what he looked like. His hair was probably a greasy rat's nest, and he was still bleeding buckets of blood. The guy was stirring. Danny quickly put on the shirt and ran off.

Running blindly into the city turned out not to be a good idea. Danny ran through twists and turn, alleys and deserted parks, through the skinny winter trees, crashing into people quite a lot, and finally into a town square. It was a pretty little thing, with red brick-work and a large fountain in the middle. Danny sat at the edge of the fountain, dipping his feet in the icy cold water. He thought of it to be about October, because they did not empty the spring yet. Resting may of not been a very good idea though, because Danny sensed something very familiar behind him.

"K...O...nice meeting you here." And with that Danny turned on his heel and ran away. He didn't take two steps when thousand of volts of electricity entered his body.

When Danny woke up for the first time after that, he couldn't remember what happened. When he opened his eyes, three baring walls entered his vision. He quickly closed his eyes as a loud female voice crackled over the intercom.

"Subject 1, Daniel Fenton/Phantom affirm transmission."

Danny was too stunned to do anything.

"Daniel Fenton, affirm transmission."

Silence.

"Affirm transmission. We will use force if necessary."

"Where...where am I?"

"I'm afraid I can't give you that information."

"How did I get here? What city are we in? Who are you?"

"Calm down Mr. Fenton. As of now, that information is classified. Now, how long were you aware of the fact that you had ghost powers."

"I...ghost powers?"

"You seem to be suffering from memory loss. I will go through a simple exercise to help. Annie woke up wearing an apron and a hat. She was holding two glasses one held red liquid, the other held green. Now, tell me Mr. Fenton, what was the woman's name?"

"...Annie." Then it all came back to Danny. The fight, Agent O and K, being knocked out.

"Hey! You're with the Guys in White! You can't keep me in here, I'm a human!"

"And under the Ecto Capture law, we can. Now, I will ask you again, how long were you aware of your ghost powers?

Danny stayed silent.

"I see you do not wish to answer at this time. I will ask later. Remember, Mr. Fenton, we will use force if necessary."

The intercom bleeped off. Danny looked around again. At first glance, the walls were white. But if you kept looking, you could see they were glowing a ghostly green. Looking down, Danny realized the clothes he took from the guy were gone, replaced by a glowing straitjacket. He tried turning intangible and received a shock for his efforts. Nothing he would be able to do will help him. So he turned into the corner and thought.

Once upon a time, there were 3 children. One was goth, one a geek, and one a ghost hunter's son. One day, the son went into a ghost portal. He came out half ghost. Did it matter?

It did.

One day, the ghost boy got kidnapped. Did it matter?

It did.

The door opened.

Two guys in white came in.

Later, a woman in the hall heard the screams,

and watched while blood splattered

on white walls,

staining them forever.

**I really think my writing is bad. And I don't care if you flame. Just offer SOME advice. I'm barely old enough for this account. It is not the center of my life. And I'll never stop writing.**


	2. Chapter 2

The boy opened his eyes, his cheek pressed hard into the cold, tiled, floor. Through the weld up silts that used to be his eyes, he looked around at his surroundings. The white walls, streaked with red and green were painfully familiar, but he could not grasp were he was. The boy then noticed his ragged breaths, gasping for air. He noticed how _tired _he was. How easy it would be to just fall asleep. Sweet ignorance...

Just as the boy (he couldn't remember his name, or even if he had one) was falling down, down, down into the sweet tendrils of sleep, a loud banging noise rose him from his limbo. The boy's head jerked to meet the sound. In this motion, he realized his hands were buckled down hard to the floor. Cold terror rose into the boy's chest as he saw two people walk into the room. The boy then noticed what was in one of the white suited man's hand.

A bouquet of red flowers with purple stems seemed to cast a glare to the boy. The room suddenly crackled with electricity. Another thought entered the boy's mind. _A girl with black hair...she would love those flowers._

The boy did not like these flowers. They were pure evil. The boy knew these flowers, but he didn't. Just like the walls and the girl, he could not seem to remember anything but a few details.

The man in the white suit spoke. "We said we would use force."

The boy tried to talk back. _Where am I? Who are you? Who am _I_?_ The boy's throat was too dry and scratchy to utter a word. All that came out was a strangle of sounds and syllables. The boy coughed. Green liquid came out of his mouth.

The boy was entranced by this. The shiny green liquid...there was a name for it. The boy was learning quickly. Thoughts were like rats. Or ghosts. You had to sneak up on them, or they'll float away. The boy hung onto the thought and came up with a word. A word he once knew, but now holds no meaning. Ectoplasm...the green liquid was called ectoplasm.

While the boy was going through his long philosophical thinking process, the two men in white looked down at him. The boy's long white hair was messy and matted with blood and ectoplasm. His acid green eyes were fixated on the small puddle of ectoplasm he had coughed up. One man leaned closer to the other.

"Should we give him the flowers?" One whispered to the other.

The other shrugged. (We will call them one and two for these purposes) "Let's play with him for a little bit," Two whispered back. "He won't be getting his memory back for a while. We can torture him later."

Both of the men shared a secret smile, like one one shared between two old friends over an inside joke. But this one was in no way as innocent as the other.

They both looked at the boy. His mouth formed one word: ectoplasm. He was gaining memory. They needed to act fast.

"So, ghost child. Remember these?" One held up the flowers. They crackled evilly at the boy. The air grew hot.

The boy's senses erupted. _Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. _They said.

_But why is it bad? _Asked the boy. _They're so pretty. I just want to touch them._

One held them closer to the boy. The air grew humid and full of static the closer they got to the boy. As of now, the boy was lying down, and the petals drooped limply in front of his face. The boy had to cross his eyes to get a good look at the flowers.

He watched as one petal left the others, and fell slowly onto the boy's nose.

For a split-second after, nothing happened. Then the pain set in. Raw, hungry pain that tore open the boy's insides and left him gasping for air. The boy screamed as the petal shocked every nerve in his body, one after another, all in quick succession. Over and over, he screamed, his once useless throat crying out in pain. More petals fell.

When the dark spots started appearing in the boy's vision, he didn't fight it. The darkness was relief from all the pain in the world. The spots started growing, overtaking his vision until the boy couldn't see anymore. His eyes clouded over, his breath shallowing almost to the point were you

couldn't

hear it

anymore

* * *

_~"Why won't you quit?"~_

_ ~..."Because I promised"~_

_ ~"You promised?"~_

_ ~"I PROMISED!"~_

* * *

_Not belonging to either side _

_an outcast_

_its hard, and sometimes_

_he wonders _

_which he should choose_

_but then he realizes_

_he can't. _

_It wouldn't matter_

_anyway_

_because he would still be a_

_hero._

* * *

**Fact: I am 13**

**Fact: My favorite color is ash gray**

**I threw in a poem I wrote because this chapter was pretty much a filler. **

**I can't remember the actual dialogue in The Ultimate Enemy  
**

_Flames will be used to fuel Ember's hair. _

_Flames will be given to the Flame Princess of Adventure Time._

_Flames will be used to power up the Master Sword._


	3. Chapter 3

_NOTHING  
_

_Darkness was all he knew, all he ever knew. Nothing was the only thing he felt, if you could feel it. The boy floated in the dark abyss that was his conscious, not caring for any one thing in his small world. Then, his arm(if he had one) started it twitch. This was followed by another. And another. And another, until he could finally feel something. When you finally feel **something**, you realize you had **nothing.** The boy started to panic._

_ He opened one shining blue eye, deep as sapphire, cold as ice, sparkling like dew. This was quickly followed by the other, and he stared straight up. Or down, depending on your perspective. He blinked. Once, twice, a third. A fourth before he realized he couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear, he couldn't feel. He was only slightly aware he even existed. Or if he was even a boy.  
_

_ **Boy**, he decided.** I am a boy. Call it an instinct**. The boy mentally furrowed his brow, and tried to clench what might be his hand. Feeling slowly returned to his body, and he closed his eyes hard, trying to remember what it felt to have a body, what it felt like to live, to breath. The boy slowly opened his eyes and looked down. A body had appeared!_

_ He held up his hands and stared intently at them. They were covered in...scars? White, pale, stripes of skin criss-crossed the darker pieces. He stared at his palms. Dark, crimson blood stained the pale skin. He looked down at his chest. An ugly, thick, bumpy scar stared back. He gently put his hands to the lump and traced it. Something like this, he shouldn't of survived. So why was he here?_

_ The boy gasped as the darkness around his body started to disappear as he floated. It first exploded out into dark squares, and he was surrounded by purple-swirly and green doors. He looked around at his new surroundings in awe. The peace didn't last long. The black squares gather quickly back in front of him, forming a ball. The boy reached his hands out to touch it. Warm feeling enveloped his new body. The ball slightly pulsed under his skin. The boy wrapped his hands around it. Sounds, the first in a long time, entered his mind. Moments, he thought, moments that he can no longer remember. He yearned for his memory, to feel **some** kind of emotions again. He grasped on to the small wisps of noise, trying to hear better. He brought the orb into his chest, and listened.  
_

* * *

_**BEFORE  
**_

"_**You just had to phase the car..."**_

"_**She really doesn't want to go to the dance..."**_

"_**Sorry, standard question..."**_

"_**Go inside! I dare you!"**_

"_**Little brother..."  
**_

_**At least he knew he really was a boy.**  
_

* * *

_NOTHING  
_

_ Pictures began. Thoughts, images, everything. A girl with flaming red hair. Some bright orange fabric. Strange goggles. Black spray-paint covering a dress. Some phone-thing. A bright green swirly thing. The boy knew what this was, but he couldn't really think of the word.  
_

_Ghoul Gate?_

_Spooky Spectrum?_

_Ghost Passage?_

_Ghost Portal. It was ghost portal. And he was the ghost.  
_

* * *

SOMETHING

The boy wandered the dark passageways of his new home. If, you could call it passageways, and you could call the dark nothingness a home. He didn't even wander, per se, he just floated along, looking for some kind of destination. The boy pondered for a moment. He didn't know anything about himself, where he was, or what his life was like. Maybe he didn't even have a life, and he was just 'born' in an empty shell of a body, cursed to wander the darkness for all eternity.

The boy stuck his hands in the pockets of his black pants. Maybe he wasn't even a ghost? He could be just a shade-a shadow of something living. Everything had to have an opposite, right? Was he even real? The boy tilted his head down, stuck in self-hatred. He was stupid-useless even. He couldn't remember a damn thing! Why? Why was he cursed with this? What had he done, so terribly bad, that he was stuck in this?

He was so busy that he didn't notice the black hair in front of his face turning white, and he couldn't she himself- but if he could, he would notice his eyes changing from a deep blue sapphire to a ethereal green emerald. He didn't notice as he walked right into a cold body, right into the answer for everything. A blue ghost (he was almost entirely sure he was a ghost) grabbed his arms, and with surprising strength, lifted him straight up, into the darkness, above the darkness, out of the darkness, and into light.

(He had finally crossed. He was finally at peace.)

(At least for this one moment.)

* * *

**I decided to start this again...**


	4. Chapter 4

THERE

He struggled for a moment, but the arms around him were not flinching. They held him with unseen strength, and the boy could barely feel the wind whipping around his body, sending tendrils of white hair around his face. It was then that he noticed his hair was white, not the normal black. Great. Another variable. Another thing he could not control.

Instead, he went limp in the odd man's arms, and thought of the voices. He thought of the fleeting images, and of the small dose of unknown happiness he got from these things. He tried to hold onto the warm, buttery feeling, but it was quickly replaced with a deep bone-chilling cold that he just couldn't break away from.

Finally, the boy could see again. He turned his neck as much as he could and looked around at his surroundings. It was what he saw a few moments ago, before the blue man came and took him out of that godforsaken place. The boy opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a high-pitched crack. The blue ghost gave him a quick glance down, before looking forward again. The boy furrowed his brow and tried to move around again. Finding that he still could not move at all, the boy let out a puff of air he was holding. He wiggled some more, then gave up again. This went on for at least another ten minutes until the boy decided to try this 'talking' thing again. He cleared his throat for a good thirty seconds, took a deep breath, and...

"Why are you blue?"

The boy's voice cracked about four times in his first attempted sentence, but the message still got across. Looking back, it wasn't the smartest thing to say. The boy was still a little foggy with the events that just happened to him. The blue person looked down, surprised, with a grimace on his face. "What? Do you think I ask-" After breaking off in mid-sentence, the man's face quickly went through some changes. First, he looked quizzical, then a look of astonishment crossed through it. A look of awe was quickly followed; a wide smile broke out next. What happened next made the boy yelp very, very loud. The man had turned into a child in less than a second. The next second the boy was dropped into the great swirly beyond.

"Eep!" A cracked yell broke through the boy's vocal cords. "What did you do that for!" He was slowly regaining his voice. The boy blindly grasped the air, trying to stop himself from falling. In his cluttered, panicked mind, he didn't even realized that he was probably already dead, and you can't really die again. The boy looked up at the child, but saw an old man. "Help?! Please?" The old man just smiled a waved. Since that didn't work, the boy started flapping his wings like the giant green vultures he had seen around this place. Seeing this to be futile, too, the boy stopped, wrapped his arms around his body and clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the impact. The boy thought happy thoughts, or not as sad thoughts, for lack of a better terms. He thought of the one girl's voice, dainty and intelligent, with love and comfort mixed through.

_ Little brother...Danny..little brother...keep safe, will ya?_

The boy, _no Danny, his name was Danny, _opened his wide eyes. He couldn't stop now! He couldn't die yet! He had a life, and he needed to remember! "No, no no! Stop! No! Fly! Fly fly please! Fly! I know now, my name is Danny! I'm sure of it! I can't die now!" Danny closed his eyes and prayed to whatever god was out there. He prayed for life, he prayed to be saved, and he prayed for the girl, his sister. He prayed she was safe, he prayed she was OK. Danny prayed that she was happy, wherever she is. Danny did not even realize when he stopped in mid-air.

_"Silly Daniel. You're already dead. You can't die again."_

* * *

When Danny awoke again, he was lying in a cool, damp bed; currently surrounded by a puddle of his own salty sweat. He jerked up and yanked the wet blankets off of his body. He then noticed his feet were tied in thick cord. A piece of paper laid on the nearby end table. In small, neat handing writing, a short message was listed. _Figure it out yourself -Clockwork  
_

Danny crossed his arms. "Seriously? You're worst then the Box Ghost! Why do you find pleasure in my pain and misery?" It was then that he realized what he had said. Box Ghost? Who the heck was _that? _He crossed his arms and looked around the room. It was an inky blue, with golden splashes of colors lining the walls. Overall, it gave a royal appearance to the room. Danny nodded in acknowledgement; it was a nice arrangement. He then realized he was acting stupid. He was tied to a bed for pete's sake!**(1) ** Danny pressed against the ropes until it gave him rope burn. He then tried using ghost powers like he had seen the man do. Nothing worked.

Danny wasn't giving up anytime soon. He pulled and pushed, tried gnawing the ropes off, even going as far as wondering if he should attempt clawing up his feet. '_After all,' _he thought sourly, '_I am dead..'_ So instead Danny sulked on the bed and waited for the blue man to come back. After a few hours of waiting, his wish came true.

"Still stuck on the bed I see?"

Danny just barely bit off a rhetoric remark and answered with a curt nod. The man moved over and sat down into the chair near the bed. He crossed his wrinkled hands, one on top of the other, and laid them on his lap. "My name, as you might have imagined, is Clockwork." He said obviously. Again, a sarcastic remark was bitten off by Danny. "Do...you remember anything?" This was followed by the man turning into a small child, still cloaked in purple garb. A puppy-dog face magically appeared in the man-boy's face, and Danny could not help but wince at the sudden change. "Does my face remind you of anything? Anything at all?" Clockwork already knew the answer, but the least he could do was try.

Danny blew the hair out of his face, crossed his arms, and breathed in a deep breath. Clockwork was on the edge of his seat, waiting for the answer. Hoping that for once it wasn't what he knew as the truth. Hoping that he would say that one word-

"...No."

* * *

**Wondering if I used semi-colons right...**

**Wondering if I'm writing in character...**

**Wondering if I'm using pete's sake(1) right...**

**Wondering if I will ever write a chapter at 2,000 words...**


	5. Chapter 5

NOW

Clockwork paced two and fro in his office. He didn't use this very-human like movement very often, just under the most extreme circumstances. It was much easier to float after all, but even after more than 200 years, those old human habits still showed themselves now and then. He traced the long beard he hand until it disappeared, then he traced is stubbled-covered chin, and finally the smooth baby fat of his naked cheek. When the beard regrew in a flash, Clockwork knew he had wasted enough time. It was time for action, but there was no safe action he could take. Time was like a giant chessboard, of kings and queens, knights and bishops, of the many pawns that could change an entire game. Time was a game of risk he played constantly, weighing the decision of destroying entire worlds in his hand.

Clockwork knew the boy was dead. He knew that. He knew it was the best for the world today, but any loss of live was a loss to him. His mind was contently filled with _what ifs._ What could stop all of these deaths? The murders that happened everyday now? A murder just happened. Clockwork knew that. A man was shot in his home, while painting a wall. The murderer then stole his pocketbook and left the man bleeding to death on his kitchen floor, the blood creating a dark, scarlet puddle that would be discovered exactly two days, seven hours, 26 minutes and 42 seconds by his daughter, who was taking her weekly visit to the old man. The murderer will never be found, even though Clockwork knew exactly what she looked like. It was a woman, with dirty yellow hair that did the man in. Clockwork could give her exact name-Isabella Bashore. He could send in a tip to the local police station, and she would be caught. But Clockwork knew he couldn't do that. First, the Observers will be all over him. Even changing the course of the future by that little was a huge offense.

Maybe Clockwork could kill the murderer that night before? No, murdering to save lives was frowned upon, but at least Clockwork wouldn't be severely punished. It was a problem of heart. Clockwork will not kill. He would not make Isabella take just three steps more and be run over by a bus. Morally, that was simply wrong. One life for another, it was simple enough. It was simple for the Observers, who wouldn't even bat an eye. None of the people connected to the murder were really important to the flow of time, after all. A life was worth much, much more then just another life. Each life, to Clockwork, was worth at least five more. But still...his mind wandered of what could have been. To humans, this might be called a little unhealthy, but Clockwork actually had the _power _to change the world.

What if he stopped the dinosaurs from becoming extinct? No...too big. Maybe the people of America should loose the Revolutionary War? No, if that would of happened, it would of stalled a few major inventions and the whole world today will be a few decades behind. If he could, Clockwork would do something to save Danny's life, but not at the cost of another. Not at the cost of the hundred of thousand that would happen if he were to change anything. The whole 'Dark Danny' fiasco was a one-time thing, hopefully never to be repeated again. The urge never left him, though. It was stuck inside of him, a little black worm inside what Clockwork liked to think about as a ray of light. He could do something, yet he did nothing. He comforted himself with petty talks of chivalry, of honor, and such, but deep down Clockwork was afraid. Afraid of what will happen if he were to act. Time has changed before, who knows if it will change again?

A giant, green vulture flew by his window. Clockwork stared at the being. Vultures were known as a sign of death in the human world, it's only natural for there to be flocks of them in the world of the dead. Which lead Clockwork to another problem. Because Danny has died, there was no gatekeeper preventing the humans to rage havoc through the human world. The Red Huntress-Valerie, he reminded himself, was capable enough, but not nearly as good as Danny. She simply could not face the barrage of ghosts that will come through once word got out Danny was dead. Neither the Fentons-who were much more capable than people liked to believe, could handle the onslaught of malevolent ghosts . Besides, they would be tasked with the the worry of trying to find their son, along with young Jasmine, Samantha, and Tucker.

Even if Daniel did receive his memory back, he would no longer have the drive to keep doing the task of keeping the town ghost-free. What truly anchored the boy to the city was not something of ghostly origin. It was the boy's love for the city, his home and it's inhabitants, no matter how bad they treated him, that kept him in the town. You cannot recreate the emotion that is lost with the death of the body, which tethers the soul in the realm of the living. Ghosts can still have emotions, but perhaps not the the extent that humans have. They no longer have truly tangible bodies, and do not need to take care of them. As long as a ghost has the energy to keep itself in a solid form, it can keep itself in existence. If a ghost loses enough energy to remove itself from existence, Clockwork didn't like to think of it, as he was growing older every passing second. He guessed that once the soul was gone, the conscience will also be gone, and there will just be nothingness.

Clockwork's head shot up at the sharp banging noise coming from the door across the hallway, two doors to the left. He knew it was to come, but that did not stop the basic reaction from him. After his short conversation with Daniel, Clockwork had taken the bounds off, trying to show the boy he was tied down for his own good. Clockwork guessed that he didn't make a very good first (well, not really but, you know) impression, considering the noise coming from across the hall. A bang turned into a buzz, then a bang, then a yelp. Clockwork knew that Daniel just rediscovered his ectoblast, probably because that power had the most 'muscle memory' involved.

_Oh lord,_ Clockwork thought. _The future must always be harder than the past.  
_

* * *

_**Isabella will never return. Ever. She's just a tool.**  
**I have a really short attention span. I can write maybe, two paragraphs, before I get distracted by other things.  
Meh**  
_


End file.
